The Parable of
Dubya’s Choice

Dissident Voice

October 21, 2003

Editor’s Note: I Received the following
in the mail from DV contributing

writers Rustie Woods and Paul Dean, but
we don’t know who penned it

While
walking down the street one day, George "Dubya" Bush is shot by a
disgruntled NRA member.His soul
arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.

"Welcome
to heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is
a problem: We seldom see a Republican around these parts, so we're not sure
what to do with you."

"No
problem, just let me in; I'm a believer,” says Dubya.

"I'd
like to just let you in, but I have orders from the Man Himself: He says you
have to spend one day in hell and one day in heaven. Then you must choose where
you'll live for eternity."

"But,
I've already made up my mind; I want to be in heaven."

"I'm sorry, but we have our rules."
And with that, St. Peter escorts him to an elevator and he goes down, down,
down, all the way to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of
a lush golf course; the sun is shining in a cloudless sky, the temperature a
perfect 72 degrees. In the distance is a beautiful clubhouse.

Standing
in front of it his dad and thousands of other Republicans who had helped him
out over the years: Karl Rove, Dick Cheney, Jerry Falwell.The whole of the "Right" is here,
everyone laughing, happy; casually but expensively dressed. They run to greet
him, hug him, and reminisce about the good times they had getting rich at
expense of the "suckers and peasants." They play a friendly game of
golf, then dine on lobster and caviar. The devil himself comes up to Bush with
a frosty drink and says, "Have a Margarita and relax, Dubya!"

"Uh, I can't drink no more, I took a
pledge," says Junior, dejectedly.

"This
is Hell, son: you can drink and eat all you want and not worry, and it just
gets better from here!" says the devil.Dubya takes the drink and finds himself liking the devil, who is a very
friendly guy who tells funny jokes and pulls hilarious nasty pranks, kind of
like a Yale Skull and Bones brother with real horns.

They
are having such a great time that, before he realizes it, it's time to go.
Everyone gives him a big hug and waves as Bush steps on the elevator and heads
upward. When the elevator door reopens, he is in heaven again and St. Peter is
waiting for him.

"Now
it's time to visit heaven," the old man says, opening the gate.

So
for 24 hours Bush is made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured
people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things other than money, and
treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or frat boy joke among them; no
fancy country clubs and, while the food tastes great, it's not caviar or
lobster. And these people are all poor; he doesn't see anybody he knows, and he
isn't even treated like someone special! Worst of all, to Dubya, Jesus turns
out to be some kind of Jewish hippie with his endless 'peace' and 'do unto
others' jive.

"Whoa,"
he says uncomfortably to himself, "Pat Robertson never prepared me for
this!"

The
day done, St. Peter returns and says, "Well, then, you've spent a day in
Hell and a day in Heaven. Now choose where you want to live for eternity."

With
the 'Jeopardy' theme playing softly in the background, Dubya reflects for a
minute, then answers, "Well, I would never have thought I'd say this -- I
mean, heaven has been delightful and all -- but I really think I belong in hell
with my friends."

So
Saint Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the
way to hell.The doors of the elevator
open, and he finds himself in the middle of barren, scorched earth covered with
garbage and toxic industrial waste...kind of like Houston.

He
is horrified to see all of his friends dressed in rags and chained together,
picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. They are groaning and
moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime. The Devil comes over to
Dubya and puts an arm around his shoulder.

"I
don't understand," stammers a shocked Dubya."Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a
clubhouse and we ate lobster and caviar and drank booze. We screwed around and
had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody
looks miserable!"

The
Devil looks at him, smiles slyly, and purrs, "Yesterday we were
campaigning; today you voted for us."